


Dying Breath

by SimplyEssa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with no happy ending, Character Death, Crying Lance (Voltron), Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Major character death - Freeform, Past Concussions, Past Violence, Shiro loves Mac And Cheese, Slight Cliffhanger, Whump, ambigious/open ending, mental trauma, platonic clothes sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 15:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20726462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: ”...can you hear me? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”A chuckle bursts past his chapped, dry lips before he can help himself, slowly cracking open grimey eyes. He could barely keep them open with the exhaustion he felt seeping into his bones.Lance sounded so much like Allura, it was kind of scary.”Wow, clearly, he’s not okay, since he’s laughing. Coran, I think mullet his head a little harder than we originally thought.”





	Dying Breath

A chill in his spine. 

A cold gust of wind.

A throb in his head, and a rush of gravity.

A cry of his name, and warm arms wrapping around his waist, tugging him close before he even has the chance to think about opening his eyes.

”...can you hear me? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

A chuckle bursts past his chapped, dry lips before he can help himself, slowly cracking open grimey eyes. He could barely keep them open with the exhaustion he felt seeping into his bones. 

Lance sounded so much like Allura, it was kind of scary.

”Wow, clearly, he’s not okay, since he’s _laughing_. Coran, I think mullet his head a little harder than we originally thought—“

”’m ‘ine,” he mutters, voice cracking harshly as he opens his eyes fully, taking in the bright lights of the infirmary. He could make out the two Alteans hovering nearby, hesitantly reaching out.

His head throbbed violently before he could nod his consent to them, and he grimaced sharply. He presses his face into the dark olive jacket beneath him, hoping to find some relief from the headache.

He felt Lance shift beneath him before the jacket suddenly disappeared, replaced with an even softer, gray material. His shirt, probably.

It was only gone for a moment before the jacket was wrapping around his shoulders, filling his chilled bones with a comforting warmth. He sighed in relief as the headahe dulled a little, moving his face to look back at Allura and Coran.

”Not to repeat Lance’s earlier questions,” he felt himself smile at the way Allura pronounced Lance’s name, a sharp, amused breath escaping his nose. “But... Is anything... alright? Do you feel normal?”

He frowned, gently pushing Lance away so he could stand up on his own.

Lance let him, albeit reluctantly. Keith couldn’t blame him with the way his legs shook and how his vision grew black dots before he was able to gain his bearings once more.

Even with the lightheadedness, though, he was standing. On his own.

”Mostly,” he offers, not feeling the need to lie. He remembers what happened; why they’re so worried. He remembers how the building had all but collapsed on top of him, and how someone...

And how...

His head flared with a sharp ache.

They must have seen his grimace, as almost instantly, Lance was by his side again, holding him up as one of his knees buckled. He held his head in one hand, the other braced against Lance’s offered forearm. His nails must be hurting him, but Lance... He doesn’t complain. Weird.

”Um, my head hurts,” he frowns again, a little deeper than before, and looks up to Coran. He looks concerned, and Allura... He can’t tell what she’s thinking, but it doesn’t seem good. “Am I missing something?”

She wrung out her hands as Coran muttered something beneath his breath, taking off somewhere to the left. 

“...Hopefully, no. Though... we aren’t quite sure. Coran— he would like to perform a brain scan, just to be sure.”

Her tone of voice wasn’t very welcoming; she sounded scared. And a brain scan... How bad had he hit his head back there? It didn’t necessarily surprise him, given the circumstances, but... he could’ve sworn someone had protected him from it; taken the brunt of the falling debris.

”Uh, okay.”

* * *

The brain scan hadn’t taken as long as he had expected, thankfully, and he was glad for it. He was utterly exhausted, to the point that when he yawned— a yawn the made his jaw crack and Lance jump— a tear trickled down his cheek.

He was sent off with a not-very-reassuring look from Coran as Lance helped him shuffle his way out of the infirmary. He thinks he saw one of the other pods closed, but from the distance, he couldn’t tell.

On the way to his room, Lance was quiet, It was weird enough on it’s own, but he was also being nice. Something was wrong.

It appeared that Lance wasn’t able to bring himself to speak until they were inches from his door, his hands tucked nervously into the pockets of his jeans.

”So.”

”So.”

Lance bit his lip as Keith frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He was acting weird.

”Do you... y’know..?”

Keith rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. 

”Do I what, Lance?”

”Um,” he pauses, shifting nervously and cracking his knuckles. His eyes dart from anywhere other than his face. “Y’know, like... remember..?”

He rolls his eyes once more, huffing out an annoyed sigh. Of course he remembered. Even with his concussion, how could he not? “Yes, Lance. I remember how the citizens of x-whatever were in a civil war and, in the process of trying to save some of them stuck in abandonned places, one collapsed on me.”

Lance face blanches, if only slightly, and he frowns. It’s then, when Lance is wrapping his arms around his stomach, that Keith notices the dark bags beneath his eyes, and the bloodshot eyes. How had he not noticed before? It’s so unlike Lance to look so... unkempt.

“I think..?” He tacks it on after a few moments pause, eyebrows furrowed. Was he missing something? “Lance, what—“

”You don’t — re-remember?” Lance asks, then, voice cracking and, to Keith’s dismay, eyes filling with tears. Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck, _shit_, what is he supposed to _do_? Why is Lance about to _cry_?

“Remember what, Lance? Is— is everythig okay?” He asks, voice equally as shaky, if a little calmer. A blur of emotions are swirling through his stomach; nausea, anxiety, worry— he doesn’t know what to expect.

Something in Lance’s face shifts. His lip begins to wobble miserably and the tears he had at bay started dripping down his face. He stares in a mix of shock, confusion and concern as Lance sobs, shaking shoulders curling into himself as he cries.

”Lance, what— what’s wrong? Why—?”

”He’s dead,” Lance whispers, then, sniffling harshly. The noise makes Keith grimace in disgust. “He’s _dead_, Keith, how do you not—“

”Who’s dead?” Keith interrupts, feeling dread pool in his stomach. Is that why he hadn’t seen Hunk and Pidge when he got out of the pos? Is Hunk dead? It would make sense, given how close they are— team Punk and all— but why was _Lance_ there? “Oh, oh, Lance, _Hunk_— I’m so sorry, I—“

“What?” Lance asks, then, tearful eyes going wide. He sniffles again, a little more quiet, and then laughs sharply. He raises his hands and shakes them along with his head. “No, oh my god. I think _I’d_ be dead, too. He and Pidge are, just, uh, stress baking and stress- video gaming?”

Thouh the statemnt slightly confuses him, he doesn’t ask. He simply sighs in relief, hand clutching the fabric of the pod suit around his chest. “Good. So, uh... who’s dead?”

Lance’s previously happy face droops and he sighs as well, albeit sadly. He presses his palm to the scanner of Keith’s door, lips tight and shaking slightly. He gestures for Keith to go inside.

”Um..?” He frowns, peering inside of his room. There’s boxes on his bed, and a jacket hanging next to his on the peg. He doesn’t recognize it. “What..?”

”Shiro,” Lance says, then, voice choked as Keith slowly enters the room. He’s still confused. “We— we figured since you two were the closest, you’d want to, y’know...”

”Lance,” he starts, voice a little hard, but mostly confused. He drags himself to one of the boxes, peering inside. There’s a couple of books, and a few articles of clothing. He pulls at a sleeve of a dark purple sweater and frowns. “I really _don’t_.”

He hears a sharp gasp behind him and he drops the sweater sleeve, looking at Lance with a confused glance. 

“What?”

”You— you don’t...”

”Oh my god, Lance, you seriously need to start finishing your—“

”Shiro?”

”_Who’s_ Shiro, Lance?”

Keith crosses his arms again, frowning heavily as Lance’s eyes continuously grow wider. Why is this such a big deal?

When Lance doesn’t respond after a long pause, Keith sighs, and turns to the boxes. He’ll have to figure out who this Shiro is himself.

”Shiro, he—“ Lance starts, voice wobbling, and Keith huffs in annoyance. He doesn’t bother turning to face him as he looks through another box. There’s a photograph on top, wrinkled near the edges. “He’s basically your _brother_. He—“

”Lance,” he interrupts, again, gently thumbing at the picture.

There’s four people in the photo; a little boy with short black hair, smiling widely, and two japanese looking elderly people. They’re each holding the boys shoulders with soft grins. The last one is an even smaller boy, the woman’s hand on his shoulder. He’s not quite smiling, but a hint of a smile is on his face. Piercing, amethyst eyes stare back at him, and Keith is hit with the realization that he knows the elderly woman. That _he’s_ the smallest boy in the photo.

”I...” he frowns, turning the photo around. He feels Lance’s eyes staring holes into the back of his head. On the back of the photo, in bright red ink, reads:

_To Takashi and Keith; so you may never forget the love we held for the two of you. How happy we were— are— as a family, even with your mother gone._

His eyes well with tears.

That’s right. 

His foster mother had died right before he went to the Garrison, and he had barely heard from his foster father for two months. Someone, he can’t remember who, told him he had died of a heart attack. He remembers sobbing his throat dry at night, making so much noise that it had prompted his roomate to join him on his bed and... and hug him to sleep?

That’s _not_ right.

Who was his roommate?

Maybe it was that Takashi?

”Lance, listen,” he says, gently setting the photo back in there. He’ll find out who Takashi is later. “As much as this sucks to admit, you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother—“

No, that’s not right. He’s had a brother before, someone who hugged him to sleep for months because their father was dead. Someone who kept pushing him to try when all seemed lost. Someone who got him a fish because he failed his first practice exam and didn’t want him to feel sad.

Someone who’s comfort food had become his own after so long of cooking mac and cheese in their shared dorm room.

Someone who had shoved him aside when the building started to collapse. Someone who had laid himself atop of him to try and protect him from the falling parts. 

Someone who had told him ‘_I love you_’ as his dying breath.

Someone named Takashi. 

Someone who was _dead_.

His knees hit the ground seconds before he screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> roughly inspired by an rp i did a while ago  
(very, very roughly)  
originally he wasn’t supposed to die, but...:)
> 
> i promise promise promise the bect wait will (hopefully) not be as long!! ive been mega distracted with life :(
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed!! see yall in the next one


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